You Can Lay with Me
by It'sNotAboutAngels
Summary: End!verse Destiel one shot. It wasn't like Dean never stayed the night, he just never stayed the night with Cas. It was dangerous, and terrifying and truly stupid. He was regretting it almost instantly. Dean had fallen in love tonight with the man he would hate in the morning, and he wondered if Castiel- Cas- would hate him too.


**A/N _I don't own Dean or Cas or anything Supernatural related. Or anything Sam Smith related either.  
This is the first time I write a Supernatural story, and I don't know why I like the endverse so much, it's terrible._**

_These nights never seem to go to plan.  
I don't want you to leave, will you hold my hand?  
Oh won't you stay with me?  
'Cause you're all I need._

Dean had come to hate a lot of things. He hated his life, and he hated coffee, and he hated the Devil, and God, and the angels, and he hated himself. And Cas. Sometimes he really hated Cas. Some days he was a real pain in the ass, whether it was because he was being a snarky smart ass son of a bitch, or so high Dean honestly wondered if he was on the verge of overdosing (again). Some days when he was sober, apparently not having the chance to get his dose of shit he would get cranky, and angry, his mood so bad it could rival Dean's. Those times they always seemed to end up fighting.

But some days he was sober, or kind of sober by choice. And if he wasn't being a sardonic asshole those days, they were somewhat good. Good for _them. _Those days Dean wondered if he could've loved Cas, or if it was only Castiel for him, and in those moments Dean realized just how big of a difference the _'El'_ was. (Of God, it meant. And Cas was a far cry from being Castiel, but to be fair, Dean was also a far cry from being the Righteous Man).

Some nights Dean hated Cas so much he wondered if they could actually make love. He felt like weakness and he tasted like being alone and the overwhelming emotions always left him feeling numb in the end.

Some nights it almost felt like making love, some nights it almost felt like the only thing that could make him feel something that wasn't dead inside was Cas, and those nights it felt so good and pure he wondered if it was still Castiel in there. And when it was over and they laid there for a moment, Dean waited for the hole on his heart to reappear to stand up and leave another hole on Cas' bed, and the leader couldn't help but think that maybe the hole on the blue eyed man's heart never left even when they were together, even when it felt like _love._

Some nights Dean gave in and he stayed for a little longer, and it hurt because when Cas held him it felt like hopelessness and giving up. Cas felt like everything Dean had build up, and the blonde man couldn't help but think that maybe Cas w_as_ what Dean made of him. Just a result to the cause and effect factor.

"Why don't you sleep?" Cas asked (more like murmured really) from beside him, and Dean refused to look him in the eye.

"I'm not tired." He lied easily. Cas wasn't buying it, of course. Because even if tonight Cas had felt like living Dean couldn't feel more exhausted. "Why don't you?"

"Not tired either." Yeah, ok. The truth was that if Cas allowed himself to fall asleep before Dean, he would most likely, no, definitely wake up alone the next morning. It was like a quiet, terrible competition to see who could drift off first, each with their own purpose. One of them dreading to wake up with someone, the other one needing to wake up and not find himself alone. "Would it hurt you too much to stay the night?"

Well, would it? It probably would, It'd probably hurt them both a lot. At least that's what a part of Dean told him, but maybe he was just being his usual selfish bastard and Cas would actually feel better. And why couldn't he feel better too? If nights like this Cas tasted like a smile, and he felt like a real laugh, and he loved like it was the past.

"No." He answered for the sake of answering, and when Cas moved his body so they weren't so close anymore, it felt like rejection.

It wasn't like Dean never stayed the night, he just never stayed the night _with Cas_. It was dangerous, and terrifying and truly stupid.

He reached out for Cas' hand, finding it easily, and he held it softly. "I'll stay the night." His voice shook as he looked at the ceiling. Tonight he would do it, tonight Dean would think about _why not_ instead of just wondering. Tonight he was realizing what was wrong and why it felt so right. His friend (best friend, family, acquaintance, _past_, or _everything that was left_, or whatever the hell Cas meant) shifted his body so he was laying closer to Dean, and he felt like fear and insecurity and anxiety and vulnerability and it amazed Dean how weak it made him feel as well.

He was regretting almost instantly.

"You don't have to stay if you don't want to." Cas muttered, but Dean could feel the grip on his hand tightening and he wondered if the other man realized how much he was refusing to let go. Small panic and suffocation started to invade some part of the hunter, but he did his best to push it aside and relax.

He forced himself to think, and his first realization made him uncomfortable again. He felt like the naïve, stupid, cocky man he had once been. He let out a shuddering breath, and almost unconsciously turned his head to look at Castiel- _Cas-_ but, oh God if in that moment the other man wasn't everything he had once been. Dean found himself 5 years in the past, doing what he hadn't dared in more time than that.

Cas' blue eyes looked like Heaven and in that moment he felt like Everything. And Dean loved him. And Dean had him. The Righteous Man and the Angel stared at each other like old friends that had been trying to find each other for a very long time.

Dean knew it was impossible, deep down he knew it was an illusion. He finally understood that tonight was just a good night, and tonight he could see Castiel and Cas could see the broken man he had once upon a time been able to save, but none of it was actually really there. Tomorrow these ghosts could be gone and the mess they had become could be back. It _would _be back. And it would hurt.

Dean had fallen in love tonight with the man he would hate in the morning, and he wondered if Castiel- Cas- would hate him too.

But now he couldn't let go. Minutes ago he had been afraid to fall and now he didn't want to touch the ground. So he put a hand on Castiel's cheek, and laid a shaky kiss to his equally shaky lips. He sighed an _I love you_ against them, and he blinked back the _I don't want to lose you_ on his eyes.

But Dean had already lost him, just like he had lost Sammy, and Bobby, and John, and Jo, and Ellen, and everyone he had ever loved. Dean had already lost Castiel, and now he would lose him again.

He wouldn't lose Cas though, he couldn't lose Cas. Because Dean had loved Castiel but now he needed this weak, sad, pathetic, broken man in front of him, and he knew the feelings (and thoughts) were mutual.

"I need you." Cas whispered on his cheek, and Dean shuddered. Cas felt like everything Dean needed slowly drifting away from his fingers.

So he stayed.

And that night, Dean felt like the end disguised as Heaven on Cas' bed.

_This ain't love it's clear to see,  
but darling, stay with me._


End file.
